


Dust Sparks

by orphan_account



Series: Skyhold Covered in Feathers [1]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe - Wings, M/M, and flirting is a very athletic business, wherein everyone has wings except dwarves probably
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-22
Updated: 2015-08-22
Packaged: 2018-04-16 17:10:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4633422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cullen and Dorian decide to take the chance to stretch their wings on a warm day, dazzling each other (and everyone else) in the meantime.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dust Sparks

The courtyard is oddly silent when Dorian leaves his notes in the library at noon, only a few people milling about the garden and the chantry. A glance upward solves the mystery; the sun is out after the passing storm early in the morning and many of Skyhold’s residents are up enjoying it. Dorian stretches his wings slightly, letting the breeze run through his feathers, but doesn’t join them. Instead, he takes his usual seat in front of the chess table in the shade.

The other seat is empty, but it’s rare that Cullen is here before him; if he isn’t with the recruits then he’s holed up in his office until he’s satisfied with the ridiculous number of reports he’s signed. So Dorian settles in to wait for the few moments it’ll take for Cullen to come bustling into the courtyard.

Except today, Cullen does no such thing – only seconds later Dorian finds himself startling almost entirely out of his seat as Cullen drops right out of the Maker damned sky, and he only just catches the squawk in his throat at the sight.

“Andraste’s feathered ass, man,” Dorian breathes, settling his ruffled feathers.

“I apologize, Dorian, I didn’t mean to scare you.” Cullen looks somewhat contrite as he folds his wings back. Not fully, Dorian notes; he still seems half ready to take off again.

“You haven’t  _scared_ me, dear Commander. I simply wasn’t expecting you to arrive right then and there, that’s all.”

“Oh?” There’s a quirk in Cullen’s lips. He’s not entirely convinced, but he’s smiling anyhow, and Dorian counts it a secret victory.

“Yes. Will you sit or did you only drop in today to startle me?”

Cullen considers the board for a moment, but then takes a half step back. “Actually, I thought there might be something else we could do today, since the air is warm.”

“Well, warm _er_ , at any rate. What did you have in mind?” Dorian asks, as if he doesn’t already know.

Cullen raises an open palm over his head. “Fly with me.”

Even from where he sits Dorian can tell there’s already a sizeable flock in the sky and then some. There are too many different colours of feathers to count properly.

“Or, if you’d prefer,” Cullen says hastily, “We can still play a-“

“No.”

“No?”

“Or yes, I should say.” Dorian corrects himself, waving a dismissive hand at the chess board as he stands. “You so rarely deviate from your usual routine, who am I to decline this opportunity?”

Cullen’s relief is painted across his body from his face to his spreading feathers. “I suppose so, although I should admit to more selfish motives. I’ve only seen you in the air once before.”

“Ah, you saw me once and it wasn’t enough? Of course. Don’t worry, Commander, it happens to anyone who sees me in flight.” Dorian steps out of the shade and stretches his wings properly this time. A little wider than he normally would, admittedly, but Cullen’s subtle reaction is worth it.

He smiles wider as he takes a few more steps back, leaving both of them enough room to take off, and his eyes never leave Dorian until he jumps.

For all that it’s noon and sunny, the air still nips at Dorian’s skin, yet when they’re far from the ground with Skyhold spread out beneath them, the temperature becomes an afterthought. Now he can see just how many have taken advantage of the calm weather, can hear whooping and chattering all around them. There are a few off glances – one man swerves even though he’s nowhere near – but it’s much easier to ignore in the air. He blows it off like flakes in the wind.

“You should do this more often.”

Dorian has to turn to find Cullen again, hovering a short distance away. “Pardon?”

“You spend most of your time in the library,” Cullen says. “You should stretch out you wings more. You’re more at ease here.”

“Anyone would be. Except dwarves I imagine. But what’s this about being crammed inside all day? From you?”

“I don’t train the soldiers inside.”

“You know what I mean.”

Dorian is sure that Cullen chuckles, but the sound is lost in the air between them. “Then perhaps I should have said  _we_.”

“Hm, perhaps we should,” Dorian replies easily with a smile of his own. More at ease, indeed.

Cullen rises a few feet, only to drop again, turning and gliding as he goes. A simple maneuver, one that Dorian mimics with a bit of his own acrobatics. He keeps an eye on Cullen’s wings, too, even as they climb up again, riding the wind further from their original spot.

He hadn’t thought much of Cullen’s wings when they first met, but he could hardly be blamed for that. The poor lighting in Haven’s chantry was enough to make even Dorian’s feathers appear drab. But once he saw Cullen outside, he had to admit he better understood why he was such an easy man to follow. Bathed in sunlight, his wings were much more impressive, all shining browns and golds, right down to the tail feathers just brushing the snow where he walked. Combined with his armour and posture, he cut a very, well, commanding figure.

A damn gorgeous one, too.

And now, flying effortlessly through a display of agility and strength, Cullen is practically magnificent. Dorian would worry about blinding the people on the ground through their combined magnificence if not for the fact that the others in the air watching them still have working eyes.

“It seems you’ve attracted an audience, Commander,” Dorian calls just as Cullen breaks out of another dive. “I can’t say I blame them, you do make a grand sight when you’re showing off.”

“You say that as if I’m the only one showing off,” Cullen says as he glides to Dorian’s side. His focus passes Dorian briefly, and Dorian knows it’s the iridescence of his own dark feathers that have caught his eye, so he has no problem with turning just so with his comeback.

“Tsk, tsk, Cullen, I haven’t been showing off in the slightest!” One wing beat has him close enough that he can brush the tips of his primary feathers against Cullen’s, and when he does Cullen’s cheeks promptly turn a shade of red that has nothing to do with the cold air. But then Dorian is gone, barreling away.

Now I am, he thinks. He can’t see Cullen until the right time to turn around, but there are only two things he could be doing: returning to the ground like a rock off a cliff, or figuring out how to follow. It was a gamble either way; he isn’t exactly in the position to actually anger the Commander of the Inquisition.

He dives, spinning twice before evening out and ascending again – and before he can even reach his intended height, Cullen is in front of him, appearing so close so suddenly that Dorian is forced to fall once more. He saves the maneuver with a few more acrobatic turns, however, and when he finishes he sees that Cullen has somehow gained control over his blush and is smirking –  _smirking!_  – at him as their feathers brush a second time.

“Are you now?” Cullen asks, just hint of glee colouring his voice.

Dorian tips his head back and laughs. “Such surprises from you, Commander!” And before Cullen can get another word in, he’s off.

Cullen keeps up with him easily, taking control as often as Dorian can take it back. His movements in flight are strong, as unyielding as he is in battle where Dorian is quicker, more flexible. They match each other’s twists and turns well enough, and Dorian swears he hears shouting every time either of them sets a new pace.

His wings are aching, but he feels more invigorated than he has in weeks. Judging by Cullen’s expression – the softness in his smile despite the determination in his eyes – he must feel the same.

By the time they land on the battlements it’s clear that they’d had quite the audience, but thankfully most are going on about the benefits of friendly competition while only a few – like Varric, the damned dwarf – are looking for the ending of a dance that by all accounts  _Cullen_  started.

“That was… that was good,” Cullen says, still breathing heavily.

Dorian agrees. He’s tired – pleasantly so, really – and hungry, now. But he won’t trouble Cullen with any of that, especially not while they are effectively surrounded by anyone who’s had a view on the battlements.

Cullen seems wary of continuing with onlookers as well. Anything he might have been intending to say before is replaced with a polite bow, which Dorian returns. “I don’t think that was any less enjoyable that any of our chess matches, was it?”

“Certainly not, although there might be a thing or two I could teach you about spiralling, Commander.”

“That so?” Cullen asks softly. “Perhaps that can be addressed later, then. For now…”

“Yes, yes, time to leap into work again. How much work has piled up while I took up your time?”

“Several matters and then some, most likely. Until later, Dorian.”

His eyes linger on Dorian, but when he faces the other way he’s already slipping into his role as Commander again. Dorian waits for a moment longer, allowing himself to preen a little as everyone else shuffles on, murmuring and arguing amongst themselves over who won the match.

“And what are you smiling about?” He asks when Varric is one of the few left, leaning on a wall out of everyone’s way.

“Could ask you the same thing, Sparkler,” Varric replies jovially. “Sky flirting. Gets me every time.”

“What else are we supposed to do with these?” Dorian asks, smoothing a few more feathers before folding his wings neatly. “I hope you at least took good notes if you insist on writing something.”

“They can only get so good when I’m more or less watching specks in the sky.” Varric shrugs. “But I’ll see what I can do to make them into something coherent.”

**Author's Note:**

> Cross posted from my tumblr. There are probably going to be more parts for this because if there's one thing I love it's wing aus.


End file.
